Harry Potter And The Eternium Chronicles
by Maliscestratus Magiarcanae
Summary: Rewrite of TEOM . Harry Potter has been living under an illusion, the illusion that he has choice. What will he do when he finds out that the choices have been made for him and that his heritage has been denied to him. Will he forgive those that made them. HP/HR...Good SS and DM, Manipulative AD
1. Chp 1 A Quandary

**Authors Note:** When I first started writing the predecessor to this fanfic I was filled with the enjoyment of many hours of reading many talented authors works/takes on the harry potter universe. I have been strongly influenced by such authors as WhiteElfElder, Heather68, Lord Silvere and The Cold Turkey, there takes on the Potterverse have been fantastic and inspiring and if it seems like a good part of the story I have probably nicked it from them.

This version of the fanfic starts a little bit earlier than the last and some bits of it can be recognised from the fifth book of the series. As you travel along with me I hope you will discover my own warped sense of humour, romance and particularly my own view of the epic. Some parts you may like others you may not, I leave the choosing up to you.

As always I am open to any suggestions, questions, curiosities, annoyances and general mumbles that you wish to send my way, but please no haters. If it's not your style I invite you to leave. I currently am looking for a online fanfic beta for this story as although I have a avid checker/reader grammar is neither of our strong points.

I hope that this sticks to the spirit of harry potter and that all can enjoy my own take on the story. Last but not least I am required to spew that well known disclaimer that stops silly people that take themselves far too seriously and getting legal on everyone.

**DISCLAIMER:**

HARRY POTTER IS AND ALWAYS WILL BE THE WORK AND INVENTION OF J.K. ROWLING WHO IN HER WISDOM HAS INSPIRED US WITH WONDER, AWE AND FANTASY. ALL CREDIT TO HER AND ALL RIGHTS ARE HERS.

ENJOY

_Maliscestratus Magiarcanae_

**Harry Potter And The Eternium Chronicles**

**Chapter One: A Quandary**

**London - Modern Day**

A black sky hung above London, its misery draining the life and soul from the muggle populace starting to wake up to the greying dawn of the new day. The cobbled streets starting to bustle with activity as the city came to life, staunch Londoners wandering around with coats pulled close and collars wrapped tight around shrugged shoulders secure in their thoughts of the days takings and profits and the way of the world being just right for their latest triumph, and all of them unaware. Unaware that below them the world was in turmoil, unaware that hours before and miles underground, hidden from the short sights and unbelieving solidity of the muggle world, the greatest battle of the last century had occurred. Two of the most powerful icons of the age had faced off and all of it had been over a boy. Not any boy but The - Boy - Who - Lived, The Chosen One, The Messiah of the Light or The Lord of Darkness. The battle for his soul had begun.

But back in the world above, under the greying sky, the sucking misery, the blackest of clouds the world went on, oblivious, unaware and uncaring.

. . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . .

**Hogwarts, Dumbledore's Office - 1 Hour Ago**

Sitting in his throne like chair behind his ornate desk anyone could be fooled into thinking that Albus Dumbledore was content. His outward appearance dignified, his posture calm and predisposing and his fingers steeped together in ponderous thought.

Nothing could have been further from the truth. Inside Albus was being plagued by that niggling feeling, that surreptitious build up of a truth unwittingly revealed but not yet understood. It was of course this particular quandary that had Albus Dumbledore's usually serene mind flowing with anticipation, anxiety and frustration. Though many people would wonder what could have caused such a reaction from the wisest of wizards it would not be difficult to predict what was causing him such laborious dedication of mind. So thus it would surprise no one to know that Albus Dumbledore's mind using its seeming infinitesimal power was currently fixated on one thing, one niggling quandary. one Harry Potter.

The boy was up to something, he just knew it, but what? despite his best attempts at reasoning, his most skilled logic, his most cunning mind he could not figure out just what about Harry Potter was niggling him. The boy had taken his instruction too well, it was unusual, while part of him would hope it was the turning of a new leaf, the sign of final submission to his tender care, Albus was not so sure. He was definitely up to something and no doubt this something would once again place the boy in mortal peril. For the tenth time in the fifteen years he had know the boy he found himself regretting not making one of those splendid artefacts of muggle/magical collaboration that took pride of place in the home of the ever loving and loyal Weasley's, a clock such as that would be a boon to his troubled mind at this moment in time. But he hadn't and regretting would 'cast no spells' so he once more turned his mind to the niggling quandary. Once more to the boy-who-lived.

A small cough brought Albus out of his reverie and turning in its direction he contemplated the figure of a man standing in the picture frame. Underneath the caption read Phineas Nigellus Black (Former Headmaster of Hogwarts).

'Sorry to disturb you headmaster but I thought you ought to know that Dolores Umbridge is interrogating Mr Potter and his friends'

Dumbledore sighed, it was a poor turn of events that had led to this moment as he reflected back on the day it had all changed. The minister had, for years, become more and more conceited and fearful for his life and had grown to distrust the man who had once inspired him. Feeling threatened Cornelius had appointed Dolores Umbridge, his former secretary, to the position of High Inquisitor of Hogwarts in an attempt to undermine him. Then the business with Marietta and the DA, honestly what had the boy been thinking, it was imperative that Harry stay at Hogwarts and so Dumbledore had accepted the blame for Mr Potter and his friends actions, justified though they were by the poor teaching methods of Miss Umbridge and had been forced to leave, in what he felt was a rather spectacular method.

However despite the common belief that he was hiding out in some remote location and the ridiculous rumour that he was living in the forbidden forest, probably started by the terrible twins, he had actually disappeared to the shrieking shack. Through his connection to the school he was able to monitor the movements of Umbridge and Fudge and in a move that he hadn't quite anticipated the school, recognising that its master was not in residence, had sealed off his old office. It had taken him a while to realise that the school held its allegiance to him and with Fawkes's help he had returned to what had become his home. The portraits surrounding his room had kept him abreast of the current goings on, including one memorable and satisfactory incident involving two Weasley's and, what he considered, some brilliant inspired theatrics and charms.

Of course it had not all been 'peachy' as some might think. An exile of the wizarding world he had found it difficult to not be able to intervene, still he had the order and they had been doing what they could but none of them could prevent the abysmal actions of Dolores Umbridge. With him gone she had taken to tormenting Harry at every opportunity, the boy was slipping further and further into a pit of despair and even the bond between the trio could not seem to lift his spirits. And now he was once more headed for mortal peril in what Albus could only assume would be spectacular style, if his understanding of Mr Potter was accurate.

Nodding his head respectfully to Phineas he paused to consider the limited actions that were available to him at this stage, he was sorry to consider that there really wasn't much he could do short of revealing himself. He would just have to rely on the quick thinking of Hermione Granger and the stubborn headedness of Harry. At that moment another cough disturbed his thought process this time coming from the mirror above the fireplace. He turned to regard the now clearing image of Severus Snape.

'Severus?' Dumbledore enquired.

'Unfortunately so Headmaster' Severus responded, even after all these years he could still not really bring himself to say the man's name. 'I just came to inform you that Potter has had another vision, he believes that Sirius is being tortured in the Department of Mysteries, I have no doubt he will try something heroic and ultimately foolish' Snape said with his usual sneer sneaking in.

Dumbledore sprang up from his chair his eyes twinkling, his mind abuzz with many questions and few answers. Speaking out loud he asked the one question that had been bothering him to the one person that might be able to answer it 'What is Harry Potter up to?'

A warm, sensitive voice spoke, its words filled with power 'Headmaster, Harry Potter has entered the Forbidden Forest in the presence of one Hermione Granger and Dolores Umbridge.'

At that moment a tingle over took Albus Dumbledore, a warning that Six Students had just breached the wards. The situation was spiralling out of control and he was starting to worry. Turning back to Severus he repressed the concern and set his mind to action.

'Severus, alert the order, tell moody to assemble a team to go to the department of mysteries, give Sirius my sympathy but ask him to stay at headquarters...and you...you must wait to be called upon...you are too precious to risk at the moment.'

Dumbledore turned towards the portraits ' Everard, Dilys' go to your respective paintings, inform the ministry that they are under attack'. The figures moved to do as they were asked and Dumbledore opened the top draw of his desk 'I only hope I am not too late'

. . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . .

**Department of Mysteries **

'**NO!**'

'Sirius...Sirius!'

...

'She killed Sirius...**I'll kill her**'

He ran, scrambling up the stone benches; people were shouting behind him but he was past caring. Bellatrix was ahead her robes whipping out of sight, he ran after through the room with the brains, dodging her curses, running past Ron and the unconscious form of Hermione. Anger and rage fuelled him now, he was past the point of caring, through the room of doors, up the corridor and into the atrium, feet pounding on the cool marble of the floor. A curse shot out at him and the sound of footsteps ceased. He ducked behind the fountain.

'Come out, come out, little harry!' Bellatrix called in her mocking babyish voice, the tone echoing of the polished wooden floors that surrounded the marble fountain. 'I thought you were here to avenge my dear cousin, you ran all this way, can't you finish it potterkins!'

'I AM!' Harry screamed the sound ricocheting off the walls and floors

'Did you _love_ him, little baby potter?' Bellatrix cooed advancing on the fountain.

Hatred and anger welled up inside him such as he had never know before, he flung himself from behind the fountain and screamed at the top of his lungs. '_Crucio_!'

Bellatrix screamed as she was flung off her feet but she did not writhe and shriek in pain, she was already back on her feet, breathless, no longer laughing, fury in her eyes. Harry ducked quickly back behind the golden fountain as her counter -spell sent the head of the handsome wizard crashing to the floor twenty feet away, gouging long scratches into the once smooth floor.

'Never used an Unforgivable Curse before, have you boy?' her voice laced with chilling anger. You have to mean it...to want to cause pain...to revel in the agony of another...righteous anger won't hurt me for long, I'll show you how it's done, as I showed the Longbottom boy!' She had abandoned her mocking tone, her voice deadly and sinister. 'Come out, little potter, you cannot win against me, I am the dark lords most loyal servant. I learned the dark arts from him and know spells you could never dream off. You cannot compete with my power!'

Harry shuffled around the fountain. '_Stupefy' _ he yelled jumping out from behind the protection of the fountain. Her reaction was so fast he barely had time to duck as his own spell came hurtling back towards him.

'I will give you one chance, potter!' Bellatrix shouted 'Give me the prophecy - roll it towards me now - and I just might let you live!'

'Well, you're going to have to kill me, because it's gone!' Harry roared a pain swelling in his head increasing to almost total agony. 'And he knows!'

'You lie!' she screamed, fear edging into her voice for the first time. '_Accio Prophecy...Accio Prophecy!'_

Harry laughed, the pain in his head throbbing harsher and harder now. 'There's nothing to summon, nothing here, it is gone, tell him that!'. Harry gloated his mind lost between that moment of reality and delusion caused by the pain now splitting his head.

'Master...I tried Master...do not punish me' Bellatrix pleaded.

'Don't waste your breath!' yelled Harry from behind the fountain 'He can't hear you'

' Can't I, Potter?' said a high, cold, terrible voice.

Harry opened his eyes. Tall, thin and masked in robes of deepest deadliest black cowled robes, his snakelike face white and gaunt, his scarlet slitted eyes staring ...Lord Voldemort was here and he...he...was doomed.

'So, you smashed my prophecy?' said Voldemort softly, fixing Harry with his pitiless red eyes. 'I can see the truth, staring out at me from within his worthless mind, months of preparation and effort...and my Death Eaters have failed me again!'

'Master, I am sorry, I knew not, I was fighting the animagus Black!' sobbed Bellatrix, kneeling at her masters feet.

'Silence, I shall deal with you in a moment, I have not entered the ministry of magic to hear your snivelling apologies.'

'But Master, he is here...below'

Voldemort paid Bellatrix no heed as he advanced on Harry. ' You have thwarted me too many times. Once we could have been allies, equals but you are as deluded as your father and mother. I have nothing more to say to you, Potter, goodbye!' Voldemort raised his arm, his sinister wand pointed at Harry '_**Avada Kedavra !**__'_

Harry knelt there stunned, barely able to lift his wand to defend himself, part of him not wishing to, wishing to accept the final rest. But the rest was not to come as the headless golden statue sprang from its foundation the curse rebounding off of its chest harmlessly as it spread its arms in front of Harry.

'You' Voldemort uttered, his very words edged with hate

'Yes Tom, Me' Dumbledore spoke serenely and calmly, as the figures of the fountain came to life. 'It was foolish to come here tonight Tom...the Aurors are on their way.'

'And I will be gone, before they arrive..._Avada Kedavra_' Voldemort retaliated his wand pointed at the only man he had ever feared. Dumbledore turned on the spot and disappeared as the bolt of green light whistled harmlessly past and hit the security desk.

Harry knelt there great pain filling his head as the two powerful wizards battled each other. Spells slashed backwards and forwards and bolts and debris littered the lobby. It was all a blur to Harry, his head was pounding, his heart was aching . He opened his eyes, Voldemort was gone. Dumbledore looked around with unease, funny...Harry thought to himself...he is usually calm and then he grasped his head as a pain worse than any imaginable filled him.

'Harry!' Dumbledore cried out

Harry held his head, his scar felt as if it would split his head in too and then his mouth moved of its own violation. 'I have the boy, Dumbledore...you will have to kill us both if you want to destroy me'. The voice was familiar, cold, uncaring, the dark lord had one...Harry mused to himself, his eyes pleading for Dumbledore to end it, to take away the pain and sorrow and then it was gone. The light faded and so did he.

. . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . .

**Dumbledore's Office, Hogwarts - Present**

Harry Potter paced the room, his eyes threatening to leak tears of pain and anguish, his heart threatening to explode with sorrow and loss. Around him a visible aura radiated, colours changing like fire, first red and then yellow tinged with black and silver. Harry Potter was grieving, Harry Potter was lost, Harry Potter was in pain.

A figure stepped out of the stone mantled hearth, their hands shaking of the dust of the floo. Harry turned to face the man...the man who had been his guardian...the man who could fix anything...the man who had betrayed him. 'Why!' he screamed half lost in his anger and sorrow his aura lashing violently out around him turning objects to dust and debris wherever it touched.

The power radiating from the boy was immense, Dumbledore mused as he contemplated the question. In a way it was scary, here a boy rested on the edge, he could go many ways but all of them had risks. Dumbledore calmly sat down behind his oaken desk, his hands steepled in front of him, his expression calm. Inwardly he was more than a little annoyed at the boy who was currently destroying many of the valued possessions that had taken him years to accumulate but anger would not help him here and the boy needed to be controlled, brought back to the light. This would not be easy...but things never were where Harry Potter was concerned.


	2. Chp 2 Guilt

**Authors Note:** Apologies for the late arrival of this particular chapter, it has proved incredibly challenging to get as near to perfect as I could. I hope you enjoy the subtle nuances of the work and that you will forgive me for both the wait and my incredibly bad grammar.

Once more I would like to put out a call for a Beta Reader as I have yet to find one. Well all that is left is to say enjoy yourselves and thank you for your patience.

**DISCLAIMER:**

HARRY POTTER IS AND ALWAYS WILL BE THE WORK AND INVENTION OF J.K. ROWLING WHO IN HER WISDOM HAS INSPIRED US WITH WONDER, AWE AND FANTASY. ALL CREDIT TO HER AND ALL RIGHTS ARE HERS.

ENJOY

_Maliscestratus Magiarcanae_

**Harry Potter And The Eternium Chronicles**

**Chapter Two: Guilt**

**Hogwarts, Dumbledore's Office**

'Harry my dear boy' Dumbledore spoke calmly his eyes fixed upon the shaking rage driven body of the boy-who-lived. This was not the first time that he had experienced this situation, in fact it had occurred four times in the last half century and all of them had been related in some way to this boy.

All be it a rare occurrence it was, in fact, rather enlightening to Dumbledore. The sheer amount of grief and power that emanated from his prodigy spoke testaments to the training and destiny of the boy, but did it really have to come with all this angst. In truth he was getting rather fed up with the whinging and whining of the young Mr Potter, the boy clearly couldn't realise the part he played in this world. So much for selfless love Dumbledore thought to himself as he considered the best way to bring the situation back under his control. Of course had he realised that events had already been set in motion that would turn everything upside down and inside out, he may have been a bit more careful with his well thought out plans.

While all this had been occurring the young Harry Potter had been letting loose. All the anger, guilt, self loathing and doubt had unleashed itself in what was a rather impressive sunburst of magical aura. Streaks of red, gold, black, silver, yellow, green and blue reaching out to touch the four walls of the elegant office. All around the office there were strewn the dented, crumpled debris of items, barely a object or curiosity left intact and as for the man behind the desk well it was clear that he didn't care.

Nothing could have been further from the truth however. Dumbledore did care, he cared rather a lot after all the boy had been in his tender care for many years and he had grown rather attached to him, in his own special way. It would surprise no one to know that Dumbledore cared rather greatly about the boy-who-lived and particularly his emotional well-being, although perhaps some would question the methods used to achieve it. Dumbledore also cared about the objects that were now littering the floor, broken, some beyond repair. The boy was certainly destructive he thought to himself with more than a little annoyance. Looking up into the eyes of the distraught teen Dumbledore could see another burst of magical emotion threatening to erupt from the already over tasked body of the young prodigy and was starting to feel that rather curious sensation that he had not felt for rather a long time, fear. At that moment he was considering whether to cast a stronger shield around his body, in case the boy should erupt again, fortunately he was saved the effort by a perfectly timed intervention, if he did say so himself.

Appearing in a flash of red and gold, the voluminous feathered figure of Fawkes materialised floating above the headmaster. His appearance was heralded with perhaps the most beautiful melody imaginable, one so soft and understanding that it placated even the most hardened of souls. Sensing the torrent of emotions Fawkes had made best time in arriving, the boy was in pain and rightly so. He would not, could not allow the boy to fail, the hopes of the magical world rested on him. Gliding majestically across the oaken desk Fawkes alighted on the tense shoulders of Harry Potter, nuzzling against his neck, phoenix song filling the room.

Slowly, ever so slowly the tenseness began to leave Harry's shoulders, his body began to slump, his aura to withdraw. He slumped, drained and exhausted into a chair quickly conjured for him. His head buried in his hands, his mind a whirl with guilt and sorrow, anger and hate. The only person he blamed was himself, he wished he could have taken the place of Sirius, it was his fault, he had been foolish. 'Why, professor, why?'

Dumbledore observed the young man over his steepled fingers, his best grandfatherly expression on his face. So the boy had not completely lost faith with him, this was good, this was salvageable.

'Harry my dear boy, I must apologise, I have made a mistake' Dumbledore spoke softly, his voice caring and regretful. Harry's shoulders slumped more, his face looking up at him, eyes full of sympathy and pain. Yes...this was how it should be, adoring student, wise professor...here he was in his element. The boy needed to be told, but not all, some secrets were necessary...after all he was only a boy.

. . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . .

**Hogwarts, Severus Snape's Personal Quarters**

Severus Snape slumped dejectedly into the armchair in his quarters, the dark and sinister decor adding to his dark and sinister thoughts. He had just returned from a meeting with the Dark Lord, who had been in the middle of enjoying a rather brilliant bit of dark magic that had Bellatrix Lestrange wishing she had never been born, and he had interrupted. He sat stony faced contemplating the sorry strand of circumstances that had led him down this path, 'it all began with lily' he murmured to himself. A small smile started to creep back onto his face, distinguishable only by the slight upwards curl of the right hand corner of his pursed lips. Thinking of lily always brought a smile to his face, and then a frown and then guilt and then...'oh Merlin be dammed' Snape yelled and launched his half full glass of whiskey into the grey stone hearth.

Hearing it shatter with a satisfying tinkle Snape got up and bent down muttering under his breath as the glass melded itself back together. It was a shame Snape mused that the whiskey couldn't repair itself back into the glass but it was not a full on loss. Stomping over to his cabinet he removed a bottle covered in cobwebs blew off the dust and started to pour himself another, draining it rather quickly. Choking on the severe taste of the brand, there was no Ogden's Finest for him, no he preferred a much stronger brew, one with a little more bile, a bit more pain...a little like him. Severus hated being out of control and lily and that brat of a potter always made him lose it...'oh why me' he mumbled into the darkened room for the twentieth time that night before resuming his pondering place in his black leather armchair, slumped, dejected and definitely sulking. And that would have been perfect if it wasn't for the damn niggling in the back of his head, that insatiable irritating itch that wouldn't bugger off...oh damn it all. He stood slowly, tensely and wandered to the door, he was going for a walk and Merlin help anyone that got in his way. Yes Severus Snape was pissed off and rightly so.

. . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . .

**Hogwarts, Corridor **

The Stone Gargoyle snapped to a close as the boy stumbled from its embrace. I hate that staircase he thought to himself. Straightening himself up he started to walk the lonely dark corridors back to his dormitory, at least he would have if he hadn't suddenly been overcome by a bright white light and his eyes hadn't swivelled into the back of his head.

Footstep echoed through his subconscious, a voice radiating out of nowhere, a scream, pain, great pain, his body wreathing and then nothing as the blackness enveloped him. Suddenly a bright light began to filter through and images started to appear in shades of grey before being extinguished being replaced with feelings of pain and loneliness, sorrow and hate. Suddenly a voice cut through the blur of images and emotions, concerned but strong, somehow reassuring.

'Harry, Harry, Harry my dear boy!'

'Ye...sss sir' Harry replied groggily

'It's time to return to the real world Harry' Dumbledore's calm voice echoed around his mind.

With a juddering final blink all images were gone and a blackness enveloped him, then grey, then a pale shadow, objects swam into view blurred and distorted as Harry groped for his glasses finding them laying a few feet in front of him. Slowly rising to his feet he grimaced in pain as his body straightened up and began to ache again. Looking around everything seemed a little blurred until he realised that his glasses had shattered sometime during his fall. Reaching for his wand he muttered _Occulus Repairo _his glasses shimmering for a second before resuming their normal non-damaged form, he shuddered as his body drained itself of the magic and grimaced, he must have used more than he had thought during the fighting at the ministry holding the wall for support he looked around the deserted corridor. Funny he thought to himself, I'm sure someone was here, grimacing in pain he forced his body to walk and headed up the corridor on his way to the dormitory.

A sudden weakness overtook him and for the second time that night he fell to the floor, slumping down the wall, Not again he thought to himself trying to keep a glimmer on reality. As grey faded into black he was sure he could see someone, a figure, glimmering, shining, perhaps it was one of the ghosts, if only he could call out, but it was too late and Harry Potter slumped to the side, collapsed, exhausted and unconscious.

. . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . .

**Hogwarts, Corridor - Thirty Minutes Previous**

Severus Snape walked softly sullen faced and withdrawn through the corridors of Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry. He was in a foul move, instead of improving his mood the wandering had done little to quieten the disorder inside his mind. He had been wandering the corridors for some time and already had exposed and punished several lovers twists. For a small while it had been enjoyable scaring the young students out of their wits and exerting control but it had been short lived and only made him feel lower as he thought about the possibilities with lily had he only acted upon them. It had driven his mood so low in fact that the last couple he had run into, a rather pushy blond haired Ravenclaw and a disgustingly adoring Hufflepuff, while scaring them out of their wits had found themselves let off with a terse 'Don't do it again' and then been privileged to view his swirling cape fly around the corner as it attempted to keep up with his long fast strides.

Of course thought Snape to himself they probably just went back to the attempts to swallow each other's tonsils, and that made him feel worse. He just couldn't stop thinking about lily and the missed chances and opportunities, the fleeting glances and foolish comments. What did that bastard have that he didn't, maybe, just maybe if...oh but what was the point, the past was the past, there was nothing to be done about it now. Maybe he could have had a chance if not for that show off of a Gryffindor. Maybe then his beautiful, seductive, enticing lily would have been his.

'Oh...Merlin Be Dammed' he cursed to the deserted corridor and turning on his heel stalked off back towards the dungeons and the sanctity and seclusion of his dark depressing apartments.

. . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . .

**Hogwarts, Corridor - Present**

A figure looked down on the boy, shimmering in colours of silver and gold. It ran a hand over him, sensing his magical aura, an aura that had been drained barely within its life. Flashes of black and red fluttered through the beings shimmering skin and with a twist it was gone, a loud crackle of thunder and lightning echoing within the corridor.

A man ran towards the noise, clothed in black robes, unknowingly copying the shimmering figure it looked down upon the boy, the chosen one. Fear and pain crossed the man's face. This was not a good day!


	3. Chp 3 A Precarious Situation

**Authors Note:**

It has been a long while since I last updated this fanfic, I could bore you with the usual explanations of real life and hard work but I am sure these are all common concerns to all writers and readers of fanfiction. However I equally appreciate the feelings of annoyance, frustration and ultimately curiosity that occur due to the lack of finish or update, therefore I have decided to attempt to hold myself, with help, to a three week rule. I.e. if I have not posted the next chapter within three weeks of posting the previous chapter then you have my permission to hound me, within reason of course. I will endeavour from now on to place a note at the end of a chapter responding to any reviews that may have been made and any questions or queries. I would obviously like to hear from you regarding suggestions, criticisms and helpful advice, also if anyone would wish to beta read my works please pm me. Now on with the story

**DISCLAIMER:**

HARRY POTTER IS AND ALWAYS WILL BE THE WORK AND INVENTION OF J.K. ROWLING WHO IN HER WISDOM HAS INSPIRED US WITH WONDER, AWE AND FANTASY. ALL CREDIT TO HER AND ALL RIGHTS ARE HERS.

ENJOY

_Maliscestratus Magiarcanae_

**Harry Potter And The Eternium Chronicles**

**Chapter Three: A Precarious Situation**

**Previously In The Eternium Chronicles**

(Skip if you already know)

Harry potter has returned to Hogwarts after facing you-know-who for the fifth time, the raid on the department of mysteries did not go to plan and Sirius black now lies dead or otherwise trapped beyond the veil. Voldemort escaped but now the ministry are aware of his existence, harry however is consumed by grief and has destroyed, in a burst of anger, the items in Dumbledore's office. Dumbledore, with Fawkes' help calmed harry and sent him off to bed, harry was attacked by a white light in the corridor and promptly collapsed, the mysterious spirit disappeared, Snape has had a temper tantrum and a guilt trip and a mysterious figure is leaning over our hero. Now we head back to the corridor to find out just what is going to happen next!

**Hogwarts School Of Witchcraft and Wizardry – Present Day **

Rain tore down upon the ancient walls and windows of Hogwarts Castle covering its many courtyards and windows with droplets of fresh clean water, all around the castle the ground was drenched and so too some of the occupants. This perhaps would have been bearable after all stone is hardly affected by the ferocity of water and cares not a drop for the drenching, apart from to clean and renew its many facetted crenulations, neither would the occupants of said stone building as it was just as easy to hide inside the protective surround of the unfeeling walls, but this being Hogwarts was no ordinary storm.

Already crashes of thunder and bursts of iridescent lightning could be heard and seen by the gloom ridden faces of the students and teachers staring out of blank grey windows into the dreary grey mist of the world outside. Not to mention the great blizzards of wind that tore their way through the many hallways and corridors of the ancient building holding its occupants under chilly siege. Within its whistling wake came the bitter cold of a winter's night and the chilling icy cool of the great lake. The weather could truly be considered foul and was only getting more so.

The wind whistled through the hallways of school taking no prisoners, claiming professors and students alike within its chilling embrace. Students languished in their common rooms before built up fires warming their hands, while they sat wrapped in blankets and cloaks complaining at any that dared venture out into the blizzard only to find themselves blown back in along with the cold damp air of the raging wind. The teachers were similarly displayed though magically their strength was being drained by more than just the chill of the wind. Through their connection with Hogwarts herself they felt the buffet of the wind and rain as it slammed into the stone of the school. The professors shivered with the chill and hoped that the storm would end soon.

. . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . .

**Hogwarts School Of Witchcraft and Wizardry - Dumbledore's Office **

Albus Dumbledore looked out from the seclusion and warmth of his tower chambers into the grounds below watching the wind swirl among the cloisters and the rain beat upon the window panes. It was not turning out to be the best of days.

For the first time in the recorded histories of Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry he; Albus Dumbledore, Headmaster of Hogwarts, Chief Warlock of the Wizengamot, Supreme Mugwump of The International Confederation of Wizards, had been forced to implement a measure that no headmaster before had ever implemented. Using the unique connection and bond of the teachers of Hogwarts school along with his own prodigious skill had connected to the heart of Hogwarts and erected wards of warmth to shield the besieged students.

The wards themselves drained the magical energy from the professors and himself depending on the area being protected and so it soon became apparent that normal school life would not be practical. And so releasing any semblance of normality he had dismissed the students to their common rooms and the teachers to the staff room. This had been met with enthusiastic, if slightly restrained, joy from the students who immediately ran for the warm shelter of the fiery hearths of their commons, lessons had been cancelled and there were more pleasant pursuits to be enjoyed, although it quickly became clear that even these were going to have to be curtailed slightly.

The bizarre thing was none of the teachers or even himself could figure out just why the storm had started nor how it had breach the ancient and powerful wards that surrounded the castle and despite their best attempts at, the obscure and somewhat outdated, weather charms it showed absolutely no signs of abating any time soon or solving the mystery of how it had begun. In fact after one, particularly difficult weather charm, which if cast correctly would have caused the winds to blow the storm adrift, the opposite effect had occurred serving only to intensify the howling raging winds and piercing rain. Dumbledore had quickly conceded and ended the spell but not before he and several of the professors had found themselves drained of a rather large chunk of their magical power.

Turning back towards the comfort of his chair before the hearth and the warmth of the fiery blaze crackling in its midst, Albus contemplated the days tidings. It had not been fantastic, he had to admit. First the boy had been less forthcoming than he had hoped, not to mention the power that he had exhibited in that rather impressive display. Second the damn weather was acting up rather badly and then thirdly he had received an aggrieved visit from Fudge, who despite the man's own efforts and obvious incompetence had retained his premiership even if it was by the smallest of margins. Fudge had come to 'brief him' on a new situation that had arisen and he needed Albus's urgent attention and advice on. He really didn't have the time but the man was the minister and even he couldn't get away with brushing him off with a fob off excuse and so he had dutifully listened to the moaning minister whilst wishing he was otherwise engaged.

At first they had taken seats at his desk, Minister Fudge in a comfortable but modest chair on the one side and himself in his throne like, ornately carved cherry wood chair facing him. Between them resided his fine desk of the best cherry hardwood moulded and fashioned by artisans with ornate carvings embellished into its fine wood. It had once belonged to Rowena Ravenclaw herself many years ago and was one of the few founder's treasures still known to exist. He had steepled his hands gently and appeared to be listening despite the man's rambling and incessant twiddling of that ridiculous bowler hat. But soon the weather had beaten them and even Fawkes' phoenix flame fire in the hearth could not reach them and so they had relocated to the two comfortable lounge chairs before the hearth and had sipped hot wine while Fudge expanded on the 'situation'. It had turned out the situation included a couple of appropriated items and a minor tax dodge that was now being investigated as well as the dwindling chances of a fourth term. He had listened for a while and had got up to look out the window but Fudge it would seem had not noticed to the rather obvious lack of interest and was continuing to ramble on whilst occasionally sipping his still full glass. Albus sighed in frustration, didn't the man know he had more important issues to be dealing with and most importantly other places to be. But above all this thinking was the cold, the chill, the raging of the mysterious storm.

Had he known that in another part of the castle another being of power was also concerned by the abrupt storm raging within and without the castle and its grounds, he might have been more forceful in his attempts to get Fudge to leave but he did not. He blatantly wished that he could find out just what was going on but Hogwarts didn't speak to him anymore except to warn and she held no warnings for him now.

Elsewhere, in the wing of the infirmary the being hovered silently and discreetly above the bed of a boy, a boy for whom life had not been kind, a boy chosen to do great things, the boy for whom the storm raged.

. . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . .

**Hogwarts School Of Witchcraft and Wizardry – Corridor (3 hours previous)**

This was not a good day, in fact as far as days went this was a right stinker. Not only was he already in a foul and unseemly mood but now, yes now, he had to deal with that brat of a boy. However this was not the primary concern at the moment, though undoubtedly a brat the boy had in fact taken it upon himself to faint in the corridor, more importantly the brat couldn't do it silently and had succeeded in making a bang that half the school would probably have heard and probably did. And now foolishly, he, the man whom perhaps had more reason than many to despise the stuck up boy wonder, was bent over the collapsed body, in what many would consider a compromising position, and lo and behold his hands were covered in blood. Of course there was no way this could possibly get worse.

'Severus SNAPE!, what in heavens are you doing'

Oh merlin be thrice damned, him and his cheap whore. Snape thought to himself as he attempted to compose what was left of his shredded patience into a reasonably constructive sentence and failed, miserably.

'What does it look like I'm flaming doing, woman'

Professor Minerva McGonagall eyed the man before her with a cold penetrating stare, one usually reserved for those that met her severe ire or had betrayed the trust of another. Her voice echoed across the corridor each syllable laden with the chilly bite and short clipped disapproval known to tear a person's soul to shreds had they an ounce of a conscience.

'Well from here…Severus…it would appear as if you are in the middle of committing a foul act, worthy of your black heart, caught red handed so to speak' she intoned, her head nodding to his blood covered hands and her voice piercing him like a chill wind from the coldest regions of hell. She moved slightly to the side before realising just what lay at Snapes feet her eyebrows raised to the ceiling, her voice gasped in shock and her wand pointed fixatedly on the man before her, her eyes cold and edged with tears.

'Severus, what have you done! …. To betray the boy you swore to protect, how could you?... we trusted you, he trusted you. I was willing to forgive you for your sins, your unending devotion, but this….this Severus….' McGonagall turned fully to stare into Severus's eyes her own brimming with the cold calculated hate of a women betrayed, one that demanded justice. 'Surrender your wand, or I shall banish you from this world'

Severus Snape appeared to wilt before her gaze, as he turned slightly to view the elderly deputy headmistress who stood behind him, feeling at that moment that the ground would swallow him whole and when she spoke, her voice laden with the chilly bite of a cold wind from the depths of hell itself, his skin seemed to crawl and tear as his soul was bared open to the judgement of the world and its guardians. His heart beat at a frantic pace, his emotions swirled from anger, through pain and anguish and even fear. Fear….in his many years as a spy and his many years of living he had never felt fear as he did now….he had stared into the eyes of some of the most powerful wizards of his time, he had faced off against many powerful men but nothing struck him with such fear as the piercing, judging eyes of Minerva McGonagall.

Thinking quickly his mind worked overtime counting his options like only a master analyst could. He could fight and run, this had always served him well in the past, but he did not doubt that he would last more than a few minutes before the witch in front of him took him out. He could surrender and find himself before the Wizengamot, perhaps Dumbledore could save him though the evidence looked damning, even to his eyes. Or he could take a life, to save his own, like he had before, but somehow he knew it could not end well. The situation was grave, the choices were all bad, how had it come to this.

No!...there was nothing for it, he had to get away, he would have to make a run for it, perhaps she would hesitate. Snape looked over at the impassive expression on Minerva's face, not likely though, he thought to himself.

_There is a fourth option…._a voice said in his mind, eerily familiar and yet strange._ Oh yeah and what is that_….his mind snapped back sarcastically_. You could trust, severus…it is not beyond you_..the voice retorted and Severus got the sense that it was chuckling at the thought_. Oh yeah, because that's a feckin fantastic idea, I tell you what, you trust her not to harm me or have me locked up while I just attempt to run down this corridor avoiding her spells, because it's an oh so clever plan….isn't it. _Snape argued with himself inside his head_. Oh Severus….think about it, the chances are slim any other way…trust her…Severus…trust yourself…_The voice spoke softly drifting into the distance as it did. _Oh piss off and bother someone else___he replied acerbically. Oh great now he was talking to himself, bloody brilliant and oh merlin be damned, the voice was right.

Severus Snape turned to Minerva and drawing his wand slowly held it downwards at an angle, a sign of submission. He spoke softly his voice strong but sincere, at least he hoped that's how it sounded, he only really new sarcastic for certain.

'Minerva…it is not how it looks…I didn't do this'

'We shall see' Minerva coldly replied 'surrender your wand'

Snape grimaced sighing resignedly 'Very well Minerva, but hear me out first…harry must be treated'

Minerva nodded and took the offered wand tucking it into her robes before levitating the boy to hip level. She motioned abruptly for Severus to lead the way and bowing his head slightly he walked in front followed by Harry Potters floating, injured body and Minerva McGonagall.

Oh this was definitely not a good day, he thought to himself once more.

. . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . .

**Hogwarts School Of Witchcraft and Wizardry – Infirmary (present day and time)**

Harry Potter, The-boy-who-lived and chosen one of the wizarding world wriggled and squirmed upon the sanitised mattress of an infirmary bed. His covers and sheets were strewn across the floor long since discarded, unable to maintain the boys constant tossing and turning. Beside the bed two people stood in silent angry discord eyeing other from opposite sides of the bed occasionally stealing glances at the writhing boy upon it.

This had been going on for some time, in fact this silent standoff and uneasy watchfulness had been going on since the boy's arrival in the hospital wing of Hogwarts school of witchcraft and wizardry a little over two and a half hours ago. Both of the watchers had spent a lengthy time pondering the precariously tense situation and neither appeared to wish to break the deadlock at the present time.

On the bed the boy lay, untouched since his in- depth examination two hours previous an examination that had shocked all concerned.

**Hogwarts School Of Witchcraft and Wizardry – Infirmary (2 ½ hours earlier)**

Poppy Pomfrey had been having a rather fruitful day, so to speak, she had spent this final day of the school term sorting and organising her beloved hospital wing before she went on her usual summer's holiday. She had already finished scrubbing the floors of the ward and tidying the pristine bed, she had even completed her stock check of potions. Placing a few on a list for Severus to brew over the summer, which she knew he would probably spend brewing, skulking and otherwise brooding in that dark dank pit of a dungeon he called home, it was unhealthy but she had, as of yet, been unsuccessful in convincing him to do anything else and so he may as well make himself useful. She was just going through her stocks of herbs, balms and poultices when a crashing bang came from the vicinity of the headmaster's tower.

Poppy was too experienced with the eccentricities of their esteemed head to feel any particular fear over loud and random noises, after all this was a school of magic and children could always be relied upon to cause mischief and loud noises, besides that the warning stones would be glowing if one of the professors was in danger or if Hogwarts were threatened and so she paid the noise little heed and continued about her inventory, blissfully unaware that in another part of the castle the boy who lived was nearing the end of his life. She had just finished counting the burn poultices for the third time and finding them lacking by one had placed them on order once more as well as making a note to investigate the removal of a poultice without her knowledge. When the doors to the infirmary slammed open, crashing against the wall and making a horrendous din echo throughout the primarily stone and granite chamber. It had been built this way to ensure its easy sterilisation and cleanliness but at times like this it was a massive pain in the backside, not to mention the head.

Bustling out from her store room rubbing her head, she surveyed the scene before her with an appraising eye. She was just about to give the two professors an admonishing tirade for disturbing the peace and acting like children when she noticed the floating figure between them. Good gods its harry potter, she mentally said to herself and that was all it took, within minutes she was in full matron mode rushing over to the bed, ignoring the comments of the two professors whilst beginning her examination of the patient.

She started with a few cursory examination spells, her wand glowing a slight yellowish light as she ran it over Harry's body. The spell was designed to show the areas that needed medical attention and to illuminate them in different colours depending on the severity of the medical problem however the spell showed nothing, this in itself was incredibly curious for three reasons, one the boy clearly was bleeding from the head and yet it showed no illumination, two the human body at any one time has numerous minor injuries that require attention, true most didn't need medical intervention but they were always present, except in this case and three the spell would also highlight the life force of the patient and according to this reading the boy was dead, and yet he still breathed. This was curious indeed. Poppy mentally searched her knowledge, attempting to de-riddle the problem before her, before coming up with an alternative. She muttered an incantation under her breath and slowly little purple areas started to appear all over Harry Potter's body. Poppy Pomfrey studied the patterns closely taking a moment to gasp in slight surprise, she was a medi-witch of many years' experience and she had never in her years had a case quite like this.

Summoning a self-writing quill and pad she began to dictate what she saw to the astonishment of all. Poppy slowly ran the tip of her wand up Harry's body stopping over the highlighted areas to assess the damage and mutter a few incantations, most of the highlighted areas were simply bruising or minor cuts, such as any person could get from any normal day, and heaven knows Hogwarts was not normal. But if anyone looked over her shoulder to the pad of paper hovering in front of her a different story was unfolding, one far more tragic and far less pleasant. After muttering a few spells and summoning a few potions and balms Poppy turned to the two professors who were still glaring at each other across the bed.

'Would you two please pack it in and start acting as if you are both professors and not angry school children!' She intoned in her no nonsense matron's voice as the two professors bodies slumped slightly at being admonished for acting like children. 'that's better' poppy stated 'now would one of you like to tell me what happened, so I can better understand my patients condition'.

'Well it was like this' Snape started to say precisely at the same time as McGonagall said 'I found Snape over him'. The two quickly descended into a chorus of descriptions, accusations and insults as they both attempted to interrupt one another.

'Enough!' Poppy Pomfrey said her face positively glowing with barely controlled annoyance. 'You are both teachers here, now Snape you were there first what happened?'.

Snape cleared his throat and was about to flick a superior smirk at McGonagall but though better of it as Poppy's eyebrow rose in frustration, instead he started to tell his story. 'I was out walking the corridors when I heard a loud bang from the corridor near to Dumbledore's office. I of course went to investigate as any teacher would and found the boy on the floor. He had clearly just passed out and I assume that it was he that caused the bang, probably up to some new foolhardy trick or attention seeking activity. I knelt down to check his condition and found he had hit his head rather hard, my hands were covered in blood from the wound. I was just about to bring him here when Minerva turned up and started calling me a traitor while pointing her wand at me, I convinced her that Harry needed attention and surrendered my wand to her so that she would bring him here, then we arrived here and you know the rest.'

Minerva coughed slightly as Poppy eyed the Potions master sceptically before deciding turning to Minerva McGonagall. 'Is this what happened?'

McGonagall nodded her face grimly set with suspicion. 'It is' she replied acerbically 'at least the latter part is, I wasn't there for the first part so cannot attest to its truthfulness, but I heard the bang and went to investigate to find Snape hovering over Harry with blood on his hands and being very defensive when questioned. It wouldn't surprise me if he had a part in this somewhere'. McGonagall finished, glaring over at Snape as if daring him to challenge her.

'Well' Poppy said softly 'it would appear as if Snape was in the right Minerva, surprising though it may be'. Poppy said as she eyed Snape curiously.

'How could you say that Poppy, can't you see Harry's condition' Minerva replied shock tinging her voice.

'I can Minerva and that is why I cannot come to any other conclusion than the one I have come too, and that is that Snape did not cause this'. Poppy replied softly.

'Very well, I shall trust your judgement, but I shall want to know exactly Harry's condition before I agree to let Snape roam free and I shall want an investigation.'

'The information you can have, however it is beyond my powers to order an investigation, though you may request one from the headmaster and I shall be happy to comply.' Poppy replied still softly and began to read out the parchment formally.

'Upon investigation of Harry James Potter I have found the current medical anomalies and injuries present, Beginning with the most minor and least critical. Slight Bruising to the left abdominal area, the soles of both feet, the head area, the chest and the arms, Minor cuts and grazes on the lower left leg, the upper right arm, the lower left arm, the abdominal area and the chest, minor internal bruising around the abdomen and hip area and minor concussion. On top of these injuries he has two fractured ribs, two cuts to lower left hip and three to his left shoulder of medium penetration, also there are traces of dark hexes and confundus charms, three potent curses and one unforgivable, severe mental fatigue due to prolonged exposure to the cruciatus curse, large amount of blood loss and a cracked skull. He also is showing signs of malnutrition and neglect. These symptoms would usually be attributed to severe neglect and torture but the patient shows very little in physical appearance neither does he act in a manner consistent with such a cause. Those are my findings.' Poppy finished gravely.

Minerva's mouth dropped open as she heard the long list of injuries, it was hard to believe that the boy could be in such a desperate state and yet the facts didn't lie. Even she, who had every reason to hate the man that had betrayed Lily and James to Voldemort could not believe that he could have caused such injuries in so little time or that such injuries would not have been picked up on previously. She opened her mouth and spoke slowly, not trusting her voice. 'How could we have missed it?, he had medical checks didn't he?'

The hospital wing was silent for a moment as the professors and the medi-witch paused in thought, each reflecting on the numerous times they had viewed the child and how they could have missed such obvious symptoms of neglect. It was Poppy who broke the silence first looking up from the dark obsidian of the granite floor her face pale with realisation; she spoke sorrowfully, her voice laden with regret and shame, Remorse in her eyes. 'I fear that the blame must lay upon me. I have often examined Mr Potter and have found him to be medically stable and magically sound as each of his yearly examination reports state. But in examining him, I have made a fatal error, one that up until now, I did not and could not realise I was making. It is not uncommon, especially within the older and more powerful families, those that call themselves pureblood, to find a mask as it were upon a child, though to see such a strong one is rare. In short Harry is covered by a glamour that hides the true extent of his injuries and pain from the world and our scans. I can only surmise that Harry himself subconsciously cast the spell for the other alternative is much more frightening, that someone else did.'

Poppy looked up at her colleagues expecting to see shock and blame upon their faces but neither was forthcoming. Snape held a look of understanding his head nodding sagely with her words. Minerva was frowning slightly as if attempting to solve a logical puzzle but meeting a frustrating conclusion due to lack of variables and knowledge. Of the two it was Snape who spoke first, something that surprised Poppy for Snape was known to keep his opinions to himself unless a chance arrived for a sarcastic put down or an opportunity to stick a spanner in the well-oiled mechanics of Dumbledore's thought out plans. Oh that damned man.

'Perhaps it would be helpful to the less enlightened among us to explain just what is wrong with Mr Potter, before Minerva here dies of brain ache' Snape said dryly a hint of a chuckle upon his voice and in his eyes.

Minerva fixed Snape with a vengeful glare and spoke softly her voice tinged with the sound of nails upon dry chalkboard. 'I'm sure we would both like that knowledge, after all…Severus…you're the one whose life hangs in his hands'. Snape shuddered internally and nodded in agreement, both professors turning towards Poppy in expectation

Poppy sighed at the professors antics and sighed again as she began to recount the story behind the boy. 'Both of you remember the first war against Grindelwald?'. Both professors nodded though they were too young to remember the events they had both read about the rise and fall of the darkest of lords, only Albus himself had been of any age to remember during those dark days. Poppy nodded and continued her narrative.

'Well after his first defeat. The wizarding bloodlines were in turmoil, several noble families had been wiped out completely and their power and wealth fell to the more obscure and less pure blooded relatives, it was in these days that the true cost of war was known. For in his attempts for magical dominance, Grindelwald had kidnapped and killed many of the magical heirs of the pureblood families; The Peverall's, De Le Guise and Seldon lines had been completely destroyed and the De Noir, Sedge and Pembrall lines had been given over to lesser descendants, however curiously he always chose the strongest in magical power to kidnap. While investigating one of Grindelwald's magical covens a bright witch, Helena Nott, discovered a piece of parchment detailing a ritual that would allow oneself to view the magical aura's of anyone that you saw, even their magical core. Laden with this knowledge the great families began to experiment and thus the trait has passed down the bloodlines to all witch and wizard born. However the knowledge came with a disastrous and not wholly unforeseen side effect. With the ability to see a magical core now prevalent amongst the most noble and ancient houses in fighting broke out and a common tactic was to seek to end the magical line by removing the most powerful magical descendent, with the great houses once more under threat of extinction they began to search for a method to combat the ability.'

Poppy paused for a moment as if thinking about what she was saying and then continued. 'It was Fenwick Draven, a notable charms master from outside the great families that first came up with the glamour charm. Within its power is the ability to disguise oneself and their magical aura however it has another less well known ability which if invoked can add to its usefulness. When fully cast the charm masks the magical core and aura whilst simultaneously making the person the charm is cast on immune to most scanning methods and even low level spells such as the impedimenta or jelly legs jynx. The spell itself requires a blood sacrifice, something we now consider to be dark magic. A small amount of the charges blood must be magically sacrificed with intent in order for the protection to exist, much like many of the older blood wards; this is then smeared over the palm of the predominant hand and magic from the core mixes with the blood casting an unseen and powerful ward upon the person's body. Many of the older families still use the charm to this day but it is rare to see it in a child from outside the great families. The main problem with the spell is that it reflects a portion of any magic cast at the person and so most basic healing charms and other necessary charms are prevented, the only way past it is with the mental consent of the charmed person. This charm became quite popular as you can guess and is now one of the few blood traits that pass from parents to child. I cannot say for certain how Harry got this spell upon him but it is unusually strong and powerful, it deflected more than my basic spells and even negated some of the effects of my potions.'

Minerva interrupted softly 'Poppy that's very interesting but how would young harry have this?, his parents would never have dabbled in blood magery.'

Snape rolled his eyes and sighed audibly 'You are so certain of the purity of your light order that you forget that there is no 'dark' magic only magical prowess. It's the very first lesson that is taught to all first year students. Magical intent is key to performance of any charm or spell, it is the same with the glamour charm, the intent is to protect something that is at the very core of a light philosophy. For your information I can well believe that lily would have used such a protection upon her son, she was not the most gifted charms witch of her age for no reason. It may be that she adapted the spell to do more than it was originally intended it could well have led to voldemort's downfall.' Snape said dryly his voice tinged with sarcasm and regret.

Minerva glared once more at Snape and was about to drop into a tirade on his dubious nature and how it gave him an ironic right to judge what was good when Poppy coughed subtly and softly continued. 'Snape may well be right for I can find no reason why Harry's particular version would be so powerful, however none of this absolves me of the guilt that I missed what is obviously long years of abuse and neglect.' Minerva went to interrupt but Poppy stopped her with a sigh. 'In my complacency I did not look any further than a basic charm, the same charm I performed today which hindered no results. I felt that all was well had I but known or thought I would have been more thorough in my checks. Even today I would have put it down to shock had it not been for the blood that was clearly there and not showing up on the scan. At least there is hope that lily cast the spell rather than someone who meant Harry harm for with such protections comes the obvious downfalls, I cannot treat Harry's wounds until he is conscious or until he lets down his barrier which having seen his injuries I do not think will be very soon.'

Poppy turned to walk away 'I am going to read some books and see if I can find a way to treat the boy without causing more harm. He should recover fine now that the wounds are being healed, even if it is only slowly but I would not be surprised if he woke up more than a little bit confused and in pain despite my efforts'. With that she walked away into her office closing the door behind her, all thoughts about stock checking and cleaning gone from her mind as she pondered the situation and how she had missed the signs.

Minerva and Snape stared at each other both too shocked to say anything as they digested and thought through the information they had just heard. The settled on dubious silence, both sitting on chairs either side of the bed, staring more at the floor than at each other occasionally flicking concerned glances at the figure of Harry Potter laying in the hospital bed.

If either of them had chosen to look up at the ceiling of the infirmary they would have seen the slight silvery glow of another watching figure. The figure was currently turning from a soft calm silvery glow to a furious red; he had been watching the confrontation and examination below and was clearly enraged by the findings. The weather outside started to turn frosty and cold and winds started to whirl around the parapets of Hogwarts School Of Witch Craft and Wizardry despite its mighty wards, the figure was fuming and Hogwarts was responding. With a slight movement of his ghostly hand a silvery glow floated down to the boy lying in the bed below bathing him an indistinguishable silvery light, the spell ended and the mist retreated and the boys wounds slowly started to heal, the spirit sighed and Hogwarts started to still, the boy would live both were sure of that but both spirits were angry at the treatment of their chosen one. with another swirl of his hand the spiritual figure released another spell this one far more powerful, the outcome was not pleasing as at that moment the spirits form turned from pale silver to vibrant blood red and he disappeared with a thunderous bang. Outside the storm raged and the winds howled, the walls of Hogwarts seeming to shake with their blast. Hogwarts screamed inside and upon the bed alone within the sanctity of darkness Harry dreamed.

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**A Little Village in the Valley of the North – 1000yrs Ago**

The wind rattled through the valley, bathing the hovels in its whistling wake as it drove between the buildings winding this way and that shrieking its eerie whistling for all to hear. In its wake came the spectres, some folks called them the voices of the ancestors others named them the ghosts of the departed but for those in the know they were the denizens of the eighth plane, spirits of fire, water, earth and air, bound by inscription and power to serve the Sorcerer of the North.

The wind was whistling and blowing, the storm was crackling in the sky and the spirits were hunting, hunting high and low on their master's commands, searching for the man, the man with the billowing robes and broad shoulders, the man with the staff of carven black wood tipped in ivory and marked with the runes of destruction, the man who for the last few days had preyed upon and terrorised the villagers of Little Hollow.

From the nearby hilltop a silent steady figure waited and watched. His face concealed by the darkness that covered the valley. The wind swirled and rushed around him, dissipating and re-materialising, thunder clapped the sky and lightning ripped the blackness of the night. In its silvery glow the man stood illuminated against the darkness. His helm was of a silvery metal wrapped in a simple crown of gold, partially covered by a red silken wrap that trailed down his back. Its shape was elegant but practical and the metal shimmered with ancient runes that flittered and glowed in their own pale light. The glowing runes continued on to the man's armour which appeared to be made in a pale red ceramic material that flowed around him in a continuous movement culminating in a skirt of the same material attached to a light gown of royal red, rimmed in gold. His figure was broad and powerfully built, he stood still and silent like a cat waiting to pounce upon its prey. A slight beard graced his chin and power was in his eyes.

The lightning cracked overhead and the voices of the spirits wailed into the night. The darkness clung to everything like a shroud occasionally dispersed by the lightning flashing above and then a wail came, a shrieking cry of triumph, the spirits had found their mark. The figure moved slowly and purposefully, seemingly gliding down the hill. He raised his staff with authority and a silvery blur sped off into the night. Down the hill he strode powerful measured steps an elegant walk displaying his power and control for all to see. As he neared the village the spirits parted from the alleys to let him through, their heads bowed in respect, their light aura's reflecting from the walls of the town. The Sorcerer approached the centre of town clearing the last few houses and stepping out into the cobbled square. The townsfolk had once gathered for market and festivals within the square, dancing around the fountain under the sun and stars in worship of the gods, placing flowers of bounty on to the stones of the fountain. Now the town was dark and stank of fear and decay, corrupted towards the darkness of the abyss. It was not always this way, once it had thrived with life, blossomed with growth and glowed with light but that had all changed when he came, the necromancer, ruler of the dead and seeker of the lost treasures. Around the square was crowded with spirits surrounding the fountain. The fountain no longer bubbled, the townsfolk no longer danced and the stones of the fountain no longer held flowers but a body, the body of a man, a man who writhed under the restraints of the spirits.

The man was dressed in dark green and black tattered robes, the stench of death emanated from him, his eyes glowing blue with power and anger. His arms were bound but upon them were the strange druidic markings of death, tattoos of his dark cult. The man looked up defiantly as the Sorcerer approached the fountain, his face contorting in anger and hate, his eyes screaming death as he looked upon the Sorcerer. The man spoke with hatred laden in his voice and defiance in his eyes, his voice crackling with power and insanity.

'You will not bind me here for long, I shall rise once more and your lands and all the kingdom shall run red with the blood of the innocent and fall into ruin, I am the god of death, the bringer of pain, I am immortal and you cannot kill me!'.

The sorcerer stared at the man before him, his eyes giving away nothing of his thoughts, with a slow deliberate movement he leant closer to the necromancer and slowly removed the sword from the necromancer's sheath. The sword slipped free with a rasping sound, its blade was long and thin curved with the strangest of guards, it shimmered with an eerie red light and seemed to wriggle in the sorcerers grip. The sorcerer eyed the blade with curiosity and muttered an incantation under his breath, immediately the blade began to wriggle and writhe in his hands but the sorcerer was ready and held firm, the blade glowed an eerie green in the moonlight as it screamed its defiance to the night. At last the blade stilled and a greenish vapour rose from its metal, the vapour began to move towards the sorcerer but a shadow rose from the ground engulfing the vapour and returning back from whence it came, the vapour extinguished in its wake, the blade snapped in half its power drained. With a look of contempt the sorcerer dropped the blade on the floor, turning to look at the man tied to the fountain who cringed when the metal clattered against the cobbles.

The sorcerer eyed the man bound helplessly before him, his eyes showing contempt for the very essence of the necromancer. With a sigh the sorcerer spoke his voice proud and authoritative, stern and resolute.

'Gregoric, for crimes against the kingdom, your sovereign lord, the conclave of magi and the ancient powers you were called traitor and banished from these lands. On pain of death were you to return and yet now you are here. You have terrorised the innocent, tainted that which was once whole and blackened the name of magi. You have practiced your foul blood magic long enough and have wielded powers that few would dare or should ever invoke. For these crimes, the penalty upon you shall be the highest that can be given. In the name of the ancient powers, the conclave and the kingdom I invoked the power of **carcere animam sanguinis**. Your soul shall be taken from your body and bound powerless within the void of the immaterium, there to languish for all eternity, so mote it be.

The bound man looked up the power drained from him, his eyes glowing no longer but full of fear as he wriggled to get free. The spirits surrounding him held him firm; preventing his movement as the sorcerer slowly and deliberately drew a long straight sword from the sheath that hung at his side, its handle glimmering with gold and silver, the blade long and straight with a blood channel a nails width down the middle. The Sorcerer raised the sword upward into the guard position before bringing it plunging down into the heart of the bound mage chanting as he did so, his voice solemn and deep ignorant of the screams of the once proud man.

_**'**_**Liga****ea****in****anima****perpetuo****carcere****cruciatus****, ****et****in****sempiternum non****dimisit****in aeternum****perferre****dolorem****quod****fecit****aliis.****Per****fortitudinem meam****et****sic fiat****magica**

As the man spoke a blue light slowly began to grow travelling down the blade towards the heart of the bound man, its path direct and unyielding. As it reached the mage it began to wrap itself around him swirling like a vortex till it glowed a purplish light and then was gone. A voice on the wind echoed the last words of Gregoric Danteric…..'Godriccccc!'.

The Sorcerer withdrew the blade from the lifeless crumbling body that was fast becoming dust, there was no blood for the man was no longer. He was bound body and soul into the void of immaterium, the vacuum of the world. With a sigh he turned slowly bowing to the spirits who one by one departed each granting their own bow to the powerful mage. Striding towards the hill once more Godric Gryffindor shook his head and muttered to himself, 'bind this soul forever in tortured imprisonment, for it shall never be released and shall forever endure the pain that it has caused upon others. By my might and magic so let it be'. The words echoed in the air until Sorcerer, spirits, village and hill were once more swallowed in the darkness of the night, lost to the depths of time.

. . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . .

**Hogwarts School Of Witchcraft and Wizardry – Infirmary (present day and hour)**

Upon the bed Harry Potter shook and writhed with pain and force and then fell still, his breathing once ragged and shallow, now long and deep. The boy was at peace the night was silent but outside the storm raged on.


	4. Authors Apology (not meant to be chp 3)

**DISCLAIMER:**

HARRY POTTER IS AND ALWAYS WILL BE THE WORK AND INVENTION OF J.K. ROWLING WHO IN HER WISDOM HAS INSPIRED US WITH WONDER, AWE AND FANTASY. ALL CREDIT TO HER AND ALL RIGHTS ARE HERS.

ENJOY

_Maliscestratus Magiarcanae_

**Harry Potter And The Eternium Chronicles**

**Authors Apology**

Greetings to all the followers and new readers of The Eternium Chronicles.

Some of you may know if you read the previous version of this story that I have a considerable difficulty keeping to a schedule, or more appropriately real life has a way of mucking things up. Well this story has been no exception and despite my best intentions and attempting to work around a hectic lifestyle and working life I have found no time to complete the chapter.

I have realised that with the work that I do any time I can spend on a tale that I so enjoy telling will be small and in snatched moments and so I cannot promise a regular update, nor can I hold myself to a time scale. I am incredibly thrilled that so many of you have followed the story, maybe out of bizarre wonder or insanity but still the interest you have shown is most gratifying. It is then rather hard to say that I will not be posting the next chapter for a little while.

In the words of Rowling herself in an interview that she gave on some show I can't remember, least ways I think it was her. When asked about advice she would give to young and new authors she responded, write three chapters ahead, preferable one book ahead so that way you have time to rest. Well that's what I intend to try, I will be writing the next three chapters over the coming months and then will attempt to post them more regularly, this way if I am stopped by real life you will atleast get a chapter to peruse. I hope that you will stay with this story as I have some interesting ideas as to where it is going and what might happen to the adventurers along for the ride.

Thank you all once again for your interest

_Maliscestratus Magiarcanae_

P.s. To those that reviewed the previous posting of this work, I thank you for the reminders that I had infact reposted chapter three and not chapter four, this was due not to a mistake on my part but to a mix up of two documents that were on the system at I do apologise. Oh and to the person that commented for me to rewrite it so it wasn't so boring, I humbly entreat you to wander off into the midst of your own mind and find something more suited to your individual tastes.


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